


Boo! Haha, got you!

by mischi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Jisung has a crush, M/M, Mediums, Spirits, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischi/pseuds/mischi
Summary: Jisung sat on the bed, determined to win him over tomorrow. He'd show Minho how manly he was in the face of those ghosts, and then Minho would have no choice to fall for him. It was basically foolproof.He rested up well, wondering how it would go.Would they really see a ghost?
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42
Collections: MINSUNG FICATHON: Round One; 2020





	Boo! Haha, got you!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is Rated G, but warning in advance for a lot of swearing. 
> 
> `Written for [MINSUNG FICATHON](http://twitter.com/minsungficathon), for PROMPT **P066**`

“Are you serious about this, Minho?” Chan, who’d somehow become the leader of their little group - probably because he was the oldest - asked from behind the driver’s seat, rife with concern. He voiced what just about all eight of them were thinking - this had to be some kind of joke. 

“I don’t understand how you can think I’m joking. I’m dead serious. This is our chance! Why can’t you see it?” Built-up frustration had the boy yelling, spewing spit at the poor recipient, Changbin, across from him. He rested his head back on the seat. He could see Jeongin, sitting shotgun, face skeptical. No one ever took him seriously!

“Everyone knows this shit isn’t real,” Hyunjin said, matter-of-factly.

“One more word out of you and you're going in the air fryer, Hyunjin,” Minho warned. 

Jisung sitting in the backseat, squished in between way too many people than was safe, felt bad for the boy. Minho was clearly passionate, but… even  _ he _ was skeptical. If Jisung was the voice of reason here, it was a bad sign. 

The car lapsed into an awkward silence as everyone tried to figure out what the hell to say next, and Jisung weighed the pros and cons of the stupid idea he’d come up with. 

Cons of going along with Minho - 

  * Jisung would have to pretend _ghosts_ are real
  * Jisung would have to go along with everything Minho said
  * Big, dark, fucking scary warehouse (what if ghosts _were_ real?, Jisung thought to himself before stopping himself. Of course they weren’t real.)



Pros of going along with Minho

  * The two of them, presumably - since everyone else said no - would be alone in that big, dark, scary warehouse. Maybe Minho would be scared, and in his fear have to cling onto Jisung’s arm. Then Jisung could hold him, protect him from all the scary ghosts. 
  * Oh god, this was actually a great idea. He should go along with it. It wasn’t like ghosts were even real. 



“Um, Jisung?” Minho waved his hand in front of his face, making him snap back to reality. “We’re-” 

Cutting the other boy off before he could get another word out, he spoke, “Min, I’ll-” He cleared his throat. “I’ll go with you.” 

Minho’s handsome face took on an expression of genuine surprise before him; he seriously hadn’t been expecting it. But, judging from the groans of everyone else in the car, they certainly had. “Hey! What’s wrong with some ghost hunting?” Jisung found himself snapping at all of the boys, who never ever missed out on the chance to tease him. But he ignored them, listening to the person who really captured his attention.

“Seriously, Jisung? This isn’t a joke?” Minho asked him.

“Not even close. I have a newfound passion for ghost-hunting, I think.” Jisung tried to sound as serious as he could. He had no clue whether he did or not, but Minho was willing to at least play along.

Jisung hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

* * *

That evening, Minho laid out their plan in excruciating detail. He was sitting on Jisung’s bed, right next to Jisung, and the younger boy couldn’t help but be excited over spending so much time, alone, with him.

But what they talked about was a little different than what Jisung would have liked to be talking about. 

The big-ass abandoned warehouse that Jisung always made sure to avoid whenever he walked to school was apparently their destination. He was really starting to question whether all of this was worth it. 

But then, Minho smiled up at Jisung, thanking him for putting in the effort to really help him, and his damn heart melted. There’s no way all of this  _ wasn’t _ worth it. Jisung could get killed by a ghost right now and it would still be worth it and then some. 

“So, Jisung. You really don’t have anything to be afraid of. These spirits… probably… won’t hurt you. It’s really less dangerous than meeting another person.”

Jisung nodded along, open-mouthed, as Minho spoke, not buying a damn word that came out of the elder’s mouth. 

There were so many horror stories, and if ghosts were real - which, they weren't, Jisung reminded himself for the umpteenth time - they were probably up to no good. 

Minho chose to ignore the look on Jisung’s face - the boy really couldn’t hide what he was thinking - and continued. “I’m going to act as the medium, meaning I’ll try to talk to the ones on the other side, and you’re gonna help me.” 

“How?” 

“You’re going to give me the tools I need. To be honest, this is my first time…” Jisung blinked at him, “...trying to act as a medium. I want to try a few different methods, and you’ll help keep me organized.”

“So- you want me to hold your stuff?”

“Well, yeah.” 

“Hm.” Jisung raised his eyebrows at him pointedly, his round cheeks puffed up.

“You’ll also act as… emotional support. But Jisung, even if you don’t believe, try and have an open mind. Otherwise, it’ll probably be better if I go on my own.”

“What?! I  _ do  _ have an open mind! I told you I wanted to see ghosts,” Jisung lied. 

“Fine. Well, we’re going tomorrow,” Minho informed him gleefully, bracing himself for Jisung’s response. 

“Tomorrow?! _ ”  _ Jisung cried out. _ Ah, there it was _ , Minho thought to himself. 

“Why so shocked, Jisung? I thought you wanted to see the ghosts,” Minho taunted. 

“F- Okay, fuck, fine. Tomorrow. I’ll carry your bag for you.” The younger had really conceded to everything that Minho told him. 

“And be my emotional support, of course.” 

“Yeah, right,” Jisung snickered aloud. Minho only wanted him for his (self-admittedly very strong and sexy) arms. 

“Alright, same time tomorrow, then?” Minho got up off of Jisung’s bed, to his dismay. 

“Ahum, do you want to go get something to eat, first? My treat?” Jisung stood up to meet Minho’s gaze, his eyes shining with hope. 

“Ah… I have to go home and prepare everything for tomorrow.” Minho patted Jisung on the shoulder to console the poor boy, who was trying way too hard. “Maybe later, Jisung.” 

“Oh, that’s okay.” All of his hope was crushed. Jisung couldn’t even hide the disappointment on his face. But Minho didn’t even notice, already making his way out of the boy’s room. 

“Bye, ‘Sung!” he called out, not looking back at him.

“Bye-bye, Minho.” Jisung sat on the bed, feeling determined to win him over tomorrow. He would show Minho how manly he was in the face of those ghosts, and then Minho would have no choice to fall for him. It was basically foolproof.

He rested up, making sure to leave strength in his arms for tomorrow so that he could carry those bags well for Minho. He wondered how it would go. Would they really see a ghost?

* * *

It was the morning he’d planned about for weeks, the morning of October 4th. Minho hadn’t chosen this date at random. 

Now abandoned, it used to house various goods for trade through the large railway system that connected the country. Really mundane, everyday-type stuff. But then, a few decades ago, on October 4th, 1963, something very strange happened in this warehouse. 

It was the anniversary of the day which the warehouse had abruptly, with no explanation, closed. 

Naturally, there had been a lot of speculation as to what exactly had happened. But, in Minho’s mind, not nearly enough. 

The most common legend involved the very spirits which they were hunting for. It was said that the spirits which inhabited the warehouse were actively hostile, always fucking with whatever poor worker had stumbled into work that day. 

The records showed it clear as day, every night, after dark, the worker on the night shift would quit abruptly, soon after starting.

Reports of ex-night shift workers include various incidents such as water balloons being dropped on the worker’s heads by ghostly apparitions, or workers experiencing a cold shiver pass through them, before they looked down and - bam - found untied shoelaces (when they had definitely double-knotted that morning). 

Minho laughed to himself. It was so obvious what had happened, it was just a matter of putting two and two together. 

He’d really wanted to go with all of the group, all eight of them, but only Jisung had given him a chance. Even if it was only one person, he’d surely prove himself right tonight. At least that boy would hold his bag for him, either way. 

Minho packed everything he needed: flashlights, sage, candles and matches, a few books of incantations, and some water. Now, he was ready. He just needed to wait for Jisung to come pick him up later tonight.

____________

The blonde boy pulled up to the front of Minho’s house, just on time - 10 P.M. Quicker than he could shift into park, Minho was already knocking on the window. 

Jisung unlocked the door for him, and Minho shimmied into the passenger seat, almost buzzing with excitement. The boy smiled at him, he was so damn cute. Jisung just wanted to hold him.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes on Minho.

“Hi,” Minho responded, eyes on the road. 

It seemed as though there wasn’t much to say, both boys lost in their own thoughts. Jisung just turned the music back up, wordlessly heading in the direction of the warehouse. 

____________

They pulled up to the warehouse, a huge, old, brick building built a whole century ago. There were some dingy old windows, but they were so old and dusty, barely any light could pass through them. 

The greenery in front of the warehouse had no one to tend to it, so vines ran up the length of the outside walls, and the grass in front of the building had grown a foot in length, swaying in the blowing soft wind. 

It was, all-in-all, horrible. Jisung couldn’t even imagine how it looked from the inside. 

“Finally.” 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Minho?” 

“I told you so many times. There’s nothing to worry about.” He knew he wasn’t being totally honest, that these spirits might want to fuck with Jisung a little bit, especially since he would surely exude fear, marking him as ripe for the pranking, but surely no real harm would come about. 

“Okay.” Jisung took a deep breath, manifesting all the bravery he could. 

“Alright, so, you hold my bag. Oh, by the way, we have to leave our phones in the car,” Minho informed him, nonchalantly. “-and no, nothing will happen,” he continued, cutting Jisung off before he could even begin to protest. 

Jisung started laughing, how fucking ridiculous could this get? He just took his phone out, leaving both of them in the glove-box, confident in the thought that this was the end of his life. 

His over-dramatic train of thought was interrupted by Minho handing him a flashlight. Oh right, since they wouldn’t have their phones. Fucking hell. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Minho responded, exiting the car.

As Jisung stepped out of the car himself, he held Minho’s bag - it was pretty light. The older boy really didn’t need him to be there at all. But he was still so happy that Jisung came with him, the younger realized joyfully. 

They walked together, the only noise being the sound of their sneakers shuffling against the dirt in the dark with no music to fill out the silence anymore.

The closer they got to the door, the faster Jisung’s heart started to beat. And definitely not in the way he wanted it to. He could begin to make out the inside through the little hole in the window. It was so dark in there, but besides that, what he could make out was dingy and completely empty. Actually, it would probably be better if the place was empty and not full of ghosts, but even besides that, there could be animals and insects running around in there… 

As they approached the rusty old metal door, Jisung prayed that maybe somehow they wouldn’t be able to get in, so they would have to go home. But when Minho managed to shove it open, Jisung resigned himself to having to enter that fucking place.

Jisung was really starting to think that this might have been a bad idea.

His shoulders were tense. If anyone dared poke him, or moved too fast in his frame of view, he’d probably jump about a foot in the air. 

Darkness surrounded him - their dingy little flashlights were the only thing illuminating their dirty, abandoned surroundings; it was almost worse than pure darkness. 

Shoot, Jisung should  _ not _ have watched _Paranormal Activity_ last week. He tried not to shake, and held onto his only companion here.

This was definitely a bad idea. 

Minho clearly had noticed his fear, and, taking some pity on him, held the blonde’s shaking hand in his own. It felt nice but, fuck, this was not how it was supposed to be. Jisung was supposed to be the brave one and comfort Minho. But he was hopeless, only able to follow Minho around.

Minho, on the other hand, was relaxed yet excited to finally be here. It was like he was living out his dreams. He scanned the area. It was really just an abandoned old building with nothing but brick walls, concrete floors, and a few broken tables assorted around.

Right now, he would miss most details with just the flashlights - it was too dark in here. So Minho guided Jisung to one of the tables, the one which seemed the sturdiest, and pulled out the candles he’d brought just for this, quickly lighting them with deft fingers. 

Jisung sat the bag down, feeling some relief as his immediate vicinity lit up and warmed up under the lights of the dozen-or-so candles. 

“So, uh…” Jisung started, before being  _ shush _ -ed by Minho. Well, shit. Alright. He then watched in silence as Minho got to whatever he was doing. Right now, he was taking all the… stuff… out of the bag. 

“Hmm… this place looks good,” Minho muttered to himself. “You just stand behind me,” he commanded, and Jisung just did as he asked without saying anything, really intrigued to see what he would do. 

The older boy, face illuminated by the candles, looked so beautiful. His pretty lips read out some kind of foreign words, and Jisung wondered where the hell he learned all this. But when he pried his eyes away from Minho's face for a second, he realized that the words were written out in Korean on the book he was reading from. (Well, he figured out where Minho learned it from.) 

The boy in front of him then moved on to burning the herb he’d brought. Clearly, all of this was rehearsed. Jisung couldn't help but be impressed by how much Minho prepared for this. He realized that Minho  _ did _ explain exactly what they were going to be doing, but, to be honest, he’d been too busy daydreaming to pay attention. 

When he was done with the ritual, Minho stepped back, standing next to Jisung, face full of expectation. This was it - this was his chance. Jisung grabbed his hand confidently, his face fixed in front of them - totally unsure of what to expect. 

Judging by the look on Minho’s face, he didn’t know what to expect, either. The boys waited, and waited, hand in hand, the fire burning hot in front of their faces, and the anticipation starting to become uncomfortable the longer this went on. 

It was coming to be obvious that nothing would happen right now, but Jisung kept his mouth shut, a little smug that he was right, but more disappointed than anything.

Eventually, Minho exhaled, shoulders slumped over, hand letting go of Jisung’s in defeat. “Let’s try again?” Jisung suggested hopefully. 

And that’s exactly what they did. Over and over, Minho put out the candle, lit them again, read the incantation, and burned the sage. But nothing, every single time. Not even a whisper. 

It was getting late, and Jisung was bored and exhausted, but Minho didn’t want to give up, convinced that the spirits would be close on such an important day. It was October 4th, for god's sake!

After another few minutes, Jisung couldn’t take it anymore. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Now, it was time to console him, Jisung thought to himself. Be that shoulder to cry on, comfort him… really boyfriend-like.

He walked up to Minho and patted him on the shoulder firmly. “I think we should go.” 

He sighed and spoke, “I’m sorry it's taken so long. Look, there’s one more thing we can try.” Jisung looked at him expectantly, ready to do it. “I want you to try, once.”

“Yeah, sure. I watched you so many times, I know exactly what to do,” he remarked, with a little laugh totally devoid of humor. 

Minho watched carefully as the boy got to it. He followed through the steps with ease. Put out candles. Light them. Read. Burn. 

He kind of hoped that it would work. Wouldn’t that be something. 

Minho watched him, mouth agape, and Jisung flashed a trying-to-be-suave-but-actually-very-awkward smile. That smile was wiped off his face as quickly as he put it on though, when the lights in front of him went out.

“What the fuck...?” Jisung felt his blood run cold, shit, shit, what was going on? He abandoned his spot next to the table, and ran close to Minho, curling his body into the taller boy. The temperature changed, it got so, so cold, and Jisung tried to get some heat from Minho. “We need to get out of here. Like right-fucking-now,” he hissed out, teeth chattering. 

“Jisung? What’s gotten into you?” Minho seemed utterly confused, like he was blind and didn't see everything that just happened. 

Oh, he was useless. Jisung just grabbed his hand and made a run for it, not letting Minho go as he ran. Minho yelled something out, but Jisung couldn't hear, adrenaline pumping through his body. It was cold out, but it felt like a furnace compared to how it felt in the warehouse. 

They ran and they ran, wind against their faces as they sprinted back to the car. Jisung unlocked it and got in, ushering Minho to follow, locking the door soon after. Before even catching his breath, he shifted gears and hit the damn gas like he’d wanted to ever since he came here. 

“Jisung? What the hell? My stuff’s in there!” Minho lamented, agitated by the stunt he just pulled. 

“We saw a fucking  _ ghost _ and you care about your stuff? Are you insane?!” Jisung screamed back, much louder than he realized. 

“Ghost?!” Minho yelled as well, matching Jisung’s volume. 

“You- You really didn't see it?” Jisung asked, bewildered, using his inside-voice now. 

“You  _ SAW  _ it?” Minho retaliated, definitely not using his inside-voice.

“YES?” Jisung didn’t know why, but he found himself laughing, probably going mad from how ridiculous all of this was. 

Minho joined him, getting rid of all of the frustration that piled up in him, cackling loudly in Jisung’s tiny car in the middle of the night. 

Jisung wasn’t even going anywhere. He just drove around, rushing to go nowhere as their laughter died down into silence. He put on the radio again. 

“What… even happened?” 

“I saw a ghost is what happened.” 

“You’re a fucking medium, you know that Jisung? You’re a medium,” Minho repeated in hilarity, as if he was trying to convince himself of this. 

“I can’t even believe it. I guess we were wrong.” Jisung finally pulled over, on a random streetside, and looked straight at Minho. He was still so, so handsome. Even if he couldn't talk to ghosts and Jisung could, he thought, happily petty.

“We’re getting dinner tomorrow,” Jisung stated, hoping that the fact it wasn’t a question would convince Minho. 

“You know, that sounds great, Jisung.” The blonde boy stared at him, trying to figure out whether some ghost had possessed him. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You always reject me…”

“Wh- no” Minho thought back, and - yeah - yeah he did. But it's not like he didn't like Jisung or anything. He really needed to give this boy a little more attention. “I- okay, yeah. I’m sorry, Jisung.”

“Are you just going out with me because I can talk to ghosts?” Jisung asked, drop-dead serious. 

Minho, amused, looked closely at Jisung’s face. He was always cute, he knew that, but it felt like he’d never really  _ realized _ just how cute he was. 

He felt elated, he was right, really right. And now, more than anything, he felt happy that it was Jisung by his side. 

* * *

The months passed, and Jisung and Minho came to become _ real  _ ghost-hunters. Minho researched and showed his partner the cases they were going to look into, and Jisung did the real work at the scene, communicating with those on the other side, and trying not to piss his pants when it happened. Minho was, in the end, right, though. Spirits tended not to be harmful to people. It was fascinating to interact with them. 

  
And, to Jisung’s elation, not only were they ghost-hunters… they were also  **a thing.** Like, real boyfriends. See, the other idiots in their friend group thought it strange that Jisung and Minho suddenly became a couple, and “saw real ghosts.” It sounded just too perfect. As if both of their dreams came true together. But sometimes, life was like that - crazier than what happened in stories. 


End file.
